


Lost in Time

by KindnessMakesMeSmile



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 05:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindnessMakesMeSmile/pseuds/KindnessMakesMeSmile
Summary: Only one man knew what was waiting inside the tower and that man was on the verge of death. He called for his most loyal servant to come to his side and in his ear whispered something that made him stand and bow before his dying master. They couldn’t have looked different in that moment, the man tall and broad, trained well enough in combat to defeat the most powerful of enemies with a black scar on his left palm, the dying man was frail and shrivelled in his age. He smiled his last and let his head sink into the pillow before falling into the embrace of death. The man turned and exited the room before turning to a servant and saying; “The King is dead. With him dies the last line of royals this country will ever know.”





	Lost in Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and I'm not sure where it's going exactly, I do have a story in mind but even the first chapter started running away on me so we'll see how it goes!  
> Tags will change so if you do keep reading, keep checking. Apologies for any grammar mistakes, I should get better as I get used to writing again.  
> No smut in this chapter, it's more of a prelude to the main plot so if you're here for that...come back in about 6 chapters. 
> 
> Thanks!

Ben Solo was a servant of House Skywalker. He had been sent to his Uncle’s castle to ‘Learn how to be a man.’ As his father had put it. He had started as a child, washing dishes in the kitchens underneath the castle until one day the Lord of the house had asked to see him. He had been brought upstairs and was stood in the centre of a dusty study that he didn’t recognise as Uncle Luke’s. An old man was seated opposite him. Ben didn’t speak and neither did the man. Seconds ticked into minutes and Ben felt sweat beading at the back of his neck. He shuffled and cleared his throat before opening his mouth only to be stopped by the man. “Do you like washing dishes boy?” Ben hesitated before nodding his head, he didn’t want the man to think he was lazy. “Do you now? Well I thought you might have made a better knight.” This statement was left hanging as if the man was waiting for Ben to snatch it out of the air. When Ben simply blinked back at him in confusion, The man sighed and heaved himself up to his feet. He moved until he stood directly in front of Ben and crouched down enough so they were at eye level with each other. “I could show you incredible things, you wouldn’t wash dishes and you wouldn’t sleep in front of the fire, you would hold a sword and women would beg for you to bed them each night. How’s that sound?” Ben’s eyes widened and he finally spoke, “That all sounds too good to be true, did my uncle send you to talk to me?.” A wheezy cackle filled the room and the man motioned for Ben to follow him to a large wooden desk, he took out a quill, a bottle of dark looking ink, and a small glinting knife. Ben eyed the last item with caution, he came from a good family on his mother’s side, but his father left much to be desired in that department and enemies had been made along the way, some proving more creative than others. The knife was put down on the desk close to the man and the bottle of ink was opened. “Hold out your hand Ben.” He stuck out his hand palm up expecting to be handed the bottle, instead the man grabbed his hand in an iron grip and poured some of the ink over it, it burned like nothing Ben had ever felt and he shouted trying desperately to pull his hand away but he was too late, The man took the knife and sliced the centre of Ben’s palm letting ink and blood mix together. This time Ben screamed and managed to yank his hand free. He tried to wipe the ink away but it had started to flow into the wound while his blood poured out, he watched as it travelled up his arm and it felt as it hit his heart. A dull pound shook his head and he fell to the floor in pain. Hours passed before Ben came back to consciousness. His vision was blurry and he looked down at his hand to see that the gash had completely healed, leaving only a vivid black scar as if to prove that it hadn’t been a dream. He looked around for the man when he heard a deep voice in his head “And so rises Kylo Ren.” Ben got to his feet and picked up the knife from the desk, it was spotlessly clean except it had a black engraving on the side, as he turned the blade to see what was written a hand shot out and grabbed the knife. It was held by the old man who turned the handle and revealed the words Ben Solo carved into the blade. “Do you know what this means?” He asked. Ben shook his head and lifted his hand to ask about the scar, “It means I own you now Kylo, first we’ll take care of that uncle of yours, then we’ll see about that tower.” Ben’s hand dropped as he felt the icy feeling of dread run down his spine and the same deep voice in his head let out a low chuckle. The tower stood tall against the rest of the landscape, a normal building would have been hidden by the oak trees that sprouted up all around it but they only served to amplify it’s height. People who passed the tower often wondered who or what was inside, no one was ever seen entering or leaving, but lights could sometimes be seen inside and it had a somber feeling as though it had been cloaked in loss long ago. None could remember where it came from, or who built it, the forest in which it stood was on the secluded island, Jakku, where people only came to trade illegal ships they had stolen. Many had tried to scale it’s walls or dig tunnels to breach it, none had succeeded. Eventually it became something that was only talked about when all other points of conversation had been exhausted. Locals had long since stopped trying to enter and travellers never stayed long enough to find it in the deep woods let alone break it. Word reached the mainland of an impenetrable tower that was left defenceless in the middle of the woods and people began to wonder if it had simply been abandoned but soon, their attentions had moved on and the tower was forgotten. Only one man knew what was waiting inside the tower and that man was on the verge of death. He called for his most loyal servant to come to his side and in his ear whispered something that made him stand and bow before his dying master. They couldn’t have looked different in that moment, the man tall and broad, trained well enough in combat to defeat the most powerful of enemies with a black scar on his left palm, the dying man was frail and shrivelled in his age. He smiled his last and let his head sink into the pillow before falling into the embrace of death. The man turned and exited the room before turning to a servant and saying; “The King is dead. With him dies the last line of royals this country will ever know.”


End file.
